Through Indigo's Eyes

by Tara Taylor

  He rapidly shook his head and refused to make eye contact. “I said forget it.” His words were clipped.

  Then suddenly he picked up the paper that he had been reading when I first saw him. “See this?” He almost shoved the paper in my face. A big red A+ was written on the front. “This is my paper, Indie. Mr. White just gave it back to me. How ironic is that?”

  “John, I said I’m sorry.”

  Suddenly, he started ripping the paper into shreds.

  I reached out to try to stop him. “Don’t,” I cried, touching his arm.

  He yanked his arm away from me. “You know, Indie, every time I tried to talk about anything in this paper, you just fed me another one of your lies.” He kept tearing, letting the tiny pieces of paper fall to the library floor.

  And he continued. “You know, what’s really, really ironic about all of this is that I would have respected you. I would have honored your gift. But you couldn’t respect me enough to even tell me. Do you think I’m such a horrible person that I wouldn’t have wanted to go out with you anymore? How could you think I was like that? That’s what hurts the most. You didn’t have any faith in me as a decent human being. You didn’t want me to know because … what? I was going to laugh at you?”

  “I wanted to tell you. I did. Honest.”

  “Indie, that’s bullshit!”

  John threw what was left of his paper on the floor. Then he came toward me and I tried to hug him, but he shoved me away. For a second, he glared at me before he stormed out of the library, leaving me alone with a big mess.

  By now sobs racked my body, tears falling like March rain down my cheeks, the pain in my chest excruciating. I got down on my hands and knees, picking up the tiny pieces of paper and putting them in a big pile. After I had gathered up every piece of paper from the dirty carpet, I stuffed them in my backpack.

  Then I quickly left the school and went home.

  The bus ride seemed to go on forever, and I wished I had Nathan to keep me company.

  Once home, I called to my mom but she wasn’t home. I trudged up to my room and removed John’s paper from my backpack, carefully putting it all in a shoebox alongside my crafts from elementary school. After storing the box in my closet, I curled into a tiny ball on my bed and pulled my comforter over my head.

  I must have slept. I don’t really know. All I know is that when my mom popped up to my room to ask me about school and dinner, I told her I’d be down.

  I cleaned up in the bathroom and survived dinner. I don’t know how I did it, but I did. It was as if I were on some sort of robotic mission to make like everything was okay when, very clearly, my life was a mess. I ate enough for my mom not to ask questions, then I excused myself, saying I had homework. Again, I curled up on my bed and slept.

  Dreams crept into my psyche, and I woke up in the middle of the night, my pajama top soaked with sweat. I lay in the dark, curled under my covers, thinking about what had happened. I was never going to be normal. Ever. I hated myself. I wished I could cry again, but I couldn’t. It was as if my tears had dried up and my heart had shriveled like a rotting apple.

  The tears were gone. My anger was gone. And most of all, my joy was gone.

  I was numb; I felt nothing.

  I fell back to sleep.

  In the morning, I got up as usual and got ready for school. Why not? I had to graduate, even though I might not get to go to grad. Or maybe I wouldn’t graduate. I hadn’t done my homework last night, and I hadn’t studied for the test I had today. What difference did it make if I graduated? I wasn’t going on to school. I wasn’t going to England with John. I wasn’t going to do anything with my life. And John wasn’t going to be my date for the ceremony. He would probably go with Amber.

  When I got to school, I talked to no one, listened to no one, just went directly to my locker. I stood in front of it for a few minutes, staring at the pieces of paper taped haphazardly all over it.

  “Weirdo.”

  “Nutjob.”

  “Crazy lady!”

  “Indie Russell was spawned from the devil.”

  “Witch! Cackle. Cackle.”

  And leaning against my locker was a broomstick with my Halloween witch’s hat perched on top

  For the first few minutes, after seeing the crap on my locker, I couldn’t move. I just stood there, reading the words over and over.

  Totally out of character for me, I completely lost it and started tearing at the paper. I ripped and I tore and chucked the paper so it fell, littering the school’s floor. I lost all my ability to think rationally, and something kept driving me forward. “I hate this! I hate this!”

  I kept tearing.

  When there was nothing left on my locker, my body felt like a tire losing air, hissing, until it was completely deflated. The rage was over. I had no more left in me. The calm that I’d had at breakfast returned, and I felt the void again. A small crowd had gathered around me to watch my performance.

  “Hey, Indie,” said a voice I didn’t recognize. I turned to see a girl standing beside me. She wore all black and had dyed black and purple hair, piercings on her face, and tattoos running like serpents on her arms. “I wanted to give you this.” She handed me a piece of paper. “We’re part of the Extraterrestrial Club in the school and thought you might want to join our group.”

  I took the paper and ripped it up in front of the girl’s face. Then I threw it at her.

  “Geez,” she said. “You always seemed so nice. When did you start being a bitch?”

  Without even opening my locker, or picking the paper up off the floor, I walked away. I heard Sarah’s voice in the distance calling my name, so I slowed down.

  When she caught up, Sarah wrapped her arms around me. “You’re still the nicest person I know,” she whispered. “This will all blow over. If you want to talk, give me a call. I’m still here for you, no matter what.”

  I looked into Sarah’s eyes. I couldn’t believe she was being so nice to me. “Thanks,” I whispered. “I know I haven’t exactly been a great friend lately.” I paused for a second. “Do you think he has something going with Amber?”

  Sarah shook her head. “Nah. Nothing serious. They’re just really good friends.” She paused for a split second before she spoke again. “But he doesn’t treat you right, Indie.”

  I felt a sharp jab to my stomach, and it began doing somersaults, making me want to throw up.

  “I’m gonna go home,” I muttered. “I don’t want to be here.”

  Sarah nodded. “I understand. I’ll call you later.”

  No one was home at my house, because everyone had left for work. Instead of going to my room, I went to the washroom, shut the door, and locked it. I looked at myself in the mirror and could see nothing but a blank pink wall behind me. I couldn’t see my face; it was as if I were nonexistent. But that’s what I wanted to be. I didn’t want to live without John. What about living together in England? Sharing a life together? Being together forever?

  I thought I was going to collapse, so I sat on the edge of the tub. The pink room vibrated and throbbed, in and out, in and out. Boom. Boom. Pink and more pink. That’s all I could see. Why was it pink? It should have been red, blood red.

  I opened the medicine cabinet. My dad’s pills lined the shelves. I picked up a bottle and looked at it. If I took the entire bottle in one dose, that would do. I turned the bottle around in my fingers and read the prescription.

  Take one pill three times daily with meals. Yes, I would take the whole bottle. I would go to sleep, and that would be that. John would never miss me. No. I shook my head, clutching the bottle to my chest. My dad needed these pills. I couldn’t do that to him. I put them back and closed the medicine cabinet door.

  This time when I looked in the mirror, I saw my papa behind me.

  “This isn’t right, Indie.”

  “I’m coming to see you, Papa.”

  “No, Indie. It’s not your time.”

  “It wasn’t Nathan’s time
either, and he died. I want to die!”

  A razor sat on the counter, and I picked it up. Would my blood match the pink pulsing walls? I would have to stick my arm in the tub so the blood wouldn’t get all over the bath mat.

  I hated myself.

  Hated who I was.

  Hated my visions.

  Hated seeing dead people.

  And hated hurting people I loved. Why did John have to find out? Now he hated me like I hated myself.

  I put the razor down. Too much blood. My mom would have to clean up the mess. Wash the bath mat. Scrub the tub. Clean the floor. I grabbed a full bottle of aspirin, unlocked the bathroom door, and made my way down the hall.

  The sun shone high in the sky, and the air had warmed and taken away some of the slush. Little rivers of water trickled into drains. I had no idea what time it was. I felt emotionless.

  I walked to the bus stop and caught a bus, finding a seat at the back by myself. I clutched the aspirin bottle in the pocket of my jacket. If I jumped off the bridge, I would drown. Then my parents wouldn’t blame themselves for being bad parents, for not seeing that something was wrong. I didn’t want them to feel bad. They loved me, always had. They only wanted what was best for me. I wanted them to think I drowned, like Nathan drowned. I wanted everyone to think it was some sort of accident.

  John. What would he think?

  He wouldn’t care.

  He would go on without me and perhaps end up with Amber and take their friendship to another level. Something jabbed me deep inside, made me ache, my heart throb.

  I looked at the trees and their lack of leaves. In a few months, the buds would come, then the leaves and the butterflies. I put my hand to my necklace.

  No, don’t think about John.

  Lacey’s face popped into my mind. She hated me too and wouldn’t care. And Sarah would also forget about me over time. Zoe and Carly had already forgotten about me after I quit the band. Up ahead I saw my stop, so I pulled the cord. Then I walked off the bus and toward the middle of Billings Bridge. The Rideau River flowed below it, and I stared at the swirling water for a few moments, watching its continuous run and the little blobs of ice bobbing along, bouncing into tree limbs, bouncing off again. At this time of year, the water moved quickly and was cold and deep. This was the best season for what I wanted to do.

  “Go home, Indie. It is not your time yet.” Again my papa spoke to me.

  “I’m tired of this, Papa. So tired. Because of who I am, I lost the one person I truly love. What does that say about me? My whole life will be one person after another leaving me because I’m weird.”

  Your grandfather is correct, said my gentle male voice.

  “Shut up! Do you hear me? Just shut up and get out of my life. I hate you.”

  I am here to help you.

  “But you don’t help! You just make everything worse,” I said into the wind.

  If you purposely try to die, you go right back to where you were. You will have to do this again, Indie. You don’t have a choice. You won’t pass go, you will go to a similar situation, and in that moment, you will lose your free will. Your time has not arrived yet.

  “Yeah, right. And I’m supposed to understand any of that?” I muttered. “And what is free will?” Here I was in the middle of the day, on a bridge, having a conversation with a voice from inside my head. No wonder John broke up with me. Who would blame him?

  Free will is choice.

  “You won’t do what you were meant to on the earth, my little sweetie pie.” said my papa.

  “Don’t, Papa. Don’t try to talk me out of this.”

  “You need to go home, Indie.”

  “Why?”

  “Your family is there. They love you,” said Papa.

  And you haven’t fulfilled your life’s purpose.

  As I watched the water, my mind slowed like a toy running out of batteries. I only had enough juice to think about my family. Holidays would be a sad time for them. Thanksgiving. Would my parents cook a turkey anyway? How would Brian react to my death? We were always fighting, but we loved each other, and we were close in a funny and amazing way. He thought I was crazy and didn’t believe in my visions, but for some reason, that didn’t matter. He didn’t judge me. And Christmas. I loved Christmas. Loved giving gifts to people. After a few years, would they even notice I was gone?

  They would get over it. The world would get over it. After years had slipped by, no one would remember Indigo Russell, or if they did, it would be someone looking at my grave and saying, “She was the weird girl who died when she was a high school senior. Offed herself on Billings Bridge.” Then they would say, “Didn’t she date John Smith for a while?” And someone would reply, “Yeah, but he ended up with Amber McKinnon.” No one would care, just like they didn’t care about Nathan.

  “Hey, look out!”

  I opened my eyes to see a guy in a wheelchair flying toward me. I stepped back to get out of his way, but when he got to me, instead of zooming by, he lurched to a stop.

  “Ya hanging? Perfect day, eh?” He grinned. “I’m so glad spring is going to be here soon. The snow sucks when you’re in a chair. Sorry if I scared you.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. Right away I noticed that his legs were strapped into his chair; he was paralyzed from the waist down. I wondered if he had been born disabled or if something had happened to him.

  He tilted his head and eyed me. “Are you okay?”

  I stuck my hands into my pockets. “I’m fine.”

  He nodded. “Life is good, y’know. We live in a great part of the world with no war or any crap like that. You get what you get. But no matter what, you have to enjoy the day.”

  Then he put his hands on his wheelchair. “Well, I got to go and—”

  “Enjoy the day.” I finished his sentence.

  He gave me a thumbs-up, then continued to the other side of the bridge.

  “This was your wake-up call, Indie. Go home, please.” Papa spoke loud and clear.

  I squinted at the sun. I couldn’t jump now. Not after what that guy had said.

  As I walked across the bridge to my bus stop, I whispered, “You arranged that, didn’t you, Papa?”

  Chapter

  Eighteen

  As Sarah had assured me, within days I was no longer the topic of conversation at school. A week later, I was forgotten by everyone, including John.

  Halfway through the day on Friday, I was at my locker, trying to figure out what books I needed for my next class and wondering if I should even go to class, when I smelled soap and cigarettes. My heart picked up speed. I was alone in the hall. Would he talk to me?

  I slowly turned. He was looking straight at me, but then he jerked his head so he was facing forward and walked right by.

  Something about his look scared me. His eyes were bloodshot and his pupils wide. There had been a rumor floating around that John had been doing drugs all week and that he’d been getting into harder stuff. I felt sick about this and wished I could talk to him.

  I slammed my locker shut without taking out a book. With my hands shoved into my pockets, I rushed outside to the smoking area. Was this pain in my chest, the continual throbbing, going to follow me forever?

  Sarah, Zoe, and Carly were smoking and talking excitedly about something. As soon as I approached them, they stopped their animated conversation. Were they talking about me?

  “Hi,” I said. I pulled out my cigarettes.

  “Hey,” said Sarah back.

  Shifty-eyed, they glanced at one another.

  “What’s going on?” I patted my pockets, checking for a lighter. Right away, Sarah gave me her cigarette. I took it and lit mine, inhaling deeply to get it sparked.

  “Not much,” said Zoe. “We’re just …” Zoe stopped mid-sentence and a weird silence hovered over us.

  “Just what?” I inhaled as if I didn’t care what they were talking about, but really I wanted to know. Were they talking about John and Amber?

  �
�We were talking about the band,” said Sarah.

  “And our upcoming gig,” said Carly.

  “Oh,” I replied.

  Carly did a little dance with her arms. “I’m so stoked and can’t wait for our big debut.”

  What date was it today? I tried to think. Friday, March 6. They were playing next Saturday, on March 14. The fund-raiser was being held at a community hall, and it was an afternoon event. In January, I’d quit in order to spend more time with John. And that’s all I’d wanted at the time, thinking it was sweet of him to want me all to himself. But now the girls had excitement flashing in their eyes, and I had nothing.

  Again silence.

  I puffed on my cigarette and looked out into the distance. I had given up a lot of things for John. But it had been my decision, too. And our breakup was a result of my lying.

  “You want to come and do a song with us?” Sarah asked.

  “You think that’s a good idea?” Carly responded before I could. Then she stared at me. “You basically dumped us for a guy. I wouldn’t give up my friends for a guy. Ever.” She blew out a perfect smoke ring.

  And then, as if I weren’t even present, Zoe said, “She could do ‘Every Breath You Take.’ We all know that one, and it was so good when we rehearsed it.”

  “I gotta get to class,” I said. I quickly stubbed out my cigarette and rushed out of the smoking area. I ran into the school with my head down. Then I heard his voice, laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world. And I heard her voice.

  Amber.

  I kept my head down and walked as fast as I could, but I guess curiosity got the best of me. I glanced up briefly to see John leaning casually against a locker and Amber standing right beside him with her talons in his belt loops. Vomit lodged in my throat.

  I ran to the washroom, flung open the door, and ran to the stall. I had barely shut the door when I threw up. I sat on the toilet and wiped my mouth with toilet paper. That was the worst, most hurtful thing he could have done to me. Amber. He had hooked up with her for the entire school to see right after we broke up!

  I cleaned myself up and went back to my locker. It was almost time for lunch, and I really wasn’t hungry. I saw Lacey coming down the hall. Again I felt sick.